That Would be Enough
by mosylu
Summary: "Both of them planetside together, at the same time, for more than a few hours (days, Jyn had said, awed, when they compared schedules, at least two, multiple) was like finding a kyber crystal rolling around on the snowfield outside." In which Jyn and Cassian make the best of what they have.


(A/N) Obviously this is an Everybody Lives AU.

I headcanon that the whole "women want _nice_ men" is this running thing between Han and Leia so everybody's heard the discussion at some point. Also that all of Echo Base is like, "They're in the same room, yessssss, pop the space popcorn." LOOK SNOW IS BORING OKAY.

Anyway murdercouple foxhole domesticity.

* * *

On Echo Base, Jyn and Cassian shared a bunk. Or to put it more accurately, they both had a bunk that they could sleep in on the rare occasions they were planetside, and it just happened to be the same one.

The both of them planetside together, at the same time, for more than a few hours ( _days,_ Jyn had said, awed, when they compared schedules, _at least two, multiple_ ) was like finding a kyber crystal rolling around on the snowfield outside.

Cassian had never considered himself a particularly domestic person. But getting ready for bed together, in the same space, the buzzy sound of him cleaning his teeth at the same time as she thumped around unpacking her go-bag - it was nice.

He found himself thinking, _When the war is over_ \- and clamped down on it. A foolish thing to think. Even in the privacy of his own head, it felt like tempting fate. They had today, him and Jyn. It was a lot more than he'd ever thought he'd have.

Even this multiple-day business might not pan out. His comm or hers might beep with orders in the middle of the night. But they hadn't yet.

Thud-thud went her boots, then rustles and more thuds and finally a deep, gusty sigh.

He leaned out of the 'fresher. "What are you doing in my bed, woman?"

"When I'm here, it's my bed," she said, eyes shut. The blankets were all piled up on top of her, but he knew from the occasional surprise return in the middle of the night that she usually mummified herself, and leaving them flat was her leaving space for him.

He shut off the lights and padded across the room. His thick socks almost blocked the cold radiating off the floor. "Move over," he said, crawling in next to her. She made a little eep sound at the chill of his hands and feet, and they shuffled and squirmed around until they were both comfortable - or as comfortable as two people could be in a bunk built for one.

When he tucked the blankets tight around them, she opened her eyes. They glinted in the low light. She smiled drowsily and her fingers moved in his hair. "I guess I'll let you share."

"Will you?"

"Sure. You're a heat source."

He pinched her ass and she tweaked his hair and they smiled at each other.

He was exhausted. It had been a long day. They were all long days. But he was loath to go to sleep and miss more of her face and her warmth and her sarcasm than he absolutely had to.

Playing with her hair, he asked idly, "Do women want nice men?"

"What makes you think that?" she murmured.

"That's what the Princess said." To Han Solo. At full voice. Having the two of them on Echo Base at the same time was better than dinner theater.

"Oh, well, _princesses,_ " Jyn said. She had a chip on her shoulder the size of a Star Destroyer over the Princess.

She said it was because Leia and her two lapdogs got all the credit for the destruction of the Death Star. Cassian told her, "We're _intelligence_ , we don't _want_ the credit - " and she rolled her eyes at him.

Honestly, he figured it was that she hated to admit to anyone how similar she was to Leia, in spite of the wild disparities in their upbringings, and how much sympathy she had for the woman.

"Princesses can hold out for nice men if they want," she said now, "but they're boring."

"Princesses or nice men?"

"Take your pick."

"Am I nice?" he asked, pretty sure of the answer.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "No."

He leaned over, kissing along her jaw, feeling her smile at the scratch of his beard. They'd had their reunion sex earlier, but it had been a rushed and greedy thing after going three months without each others' touch. _Two whole days, at least_ , he thought, and nibbled her ear. _Maybe._

Her fingers trailed over the back of his neck. "Not nice," she drawled. "Sometimes good."

"Rarely," he said.

"Rarely," she agreed. "And occasionally kind."

He ran his hand over her stomach, down her hips. "So if I'm none of those things consistently - what am I?"

With a lightning-swift motion, she rolled him under her, locking his thighs with her knees, pinioning his wrists with her hands. She'd been practicing her hand-to-hand. He beamed up at her.

"Mine," she breathed, touching her lips to his. "You're mine."

He arched up to kiss her more firmly, to say into her mouth, "And you're mine."

Like everything else, that was enough.

FINIS


End file.
